


Staccato

by GrindingGears



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Bittersweet Ending, Fluff and Angst, Implied Relationships, M/M, Melancholy, Past Abuse, This was going to be porn, Unhealthy Relationships, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 08:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14588706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrindingGears/pseuds/GrindingGears
Summary: Starscream gets to have the confrontation with Autobot Megatron every Decepticon has been wanting since the end of the trial.





	Staccato

**Author's Note:**

> **Staccato**  
>  adjective  
>      1. shortened and detached when played or sung;  
>      2. characterized by performance in which the notes are abruptly disconnected;  
>      3. composed of or characterized by abruptly disconnected elements; disjointed.  
> 
> 
> [Dictionary.com](http://www.dictionary.com/browse/staccato)
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> 
> 
> This turned out to be a bit of personal vent piece.

"No!" The screeched word was the first sound to great the ex-warlord as he entered the council chamber. "No. You don't get to be here!" Starscream shrieked again. "This is _my_ council, _my_ assembly. _I'm_ in charge here. The people chose _me_! You can't just barge in and force your presence on _my_ colleagues."

Megatron glanced around the nearly empty room at the few council members loitering about who were allegedly so inconvenienced by his entrance. Of the scattered factionless mechs and femmes strewn about the chamber, most were more startled by the commotion Starscream was making of himself then Megatron's unassuming arrival. If the seeker wasn't putting on such a fuss, he doubted any of them would have noticed him at all.

"Hello Starscream," Megatron greeted evenly, suppressing the ingrained response to lash out at the ridiculous behavior of his ex-second in command.

"No!" Starscream repeated the word with force, storming across the room to secure a better position from which to deliver his verbal assault.

"I have an appointment," Megatron defended to the approaching maelstrom.

"No," Starscream said again, and for a moment Megatron was struck with the horrifying thought that the shrill mech's voice box might be malfunctioning. "I have an appointment with that little Prime wannabe you've gone gallivanting across the universe with on a fools errand to find the Heart of Vector Sigma."

"The Knights of Cybertron," Megatron irritably corrected the intentional gaffe. Rodimus would pay for making him stand-in for this 'meeting' at a later date. Though it was probably a better fate to meet Starscream alone than be accompanied by the immature co-captain and get stuck dealing with two irrational mechs.

"Whatever," Starscream dismissed, now close enough to sneer up at the larger mech.

The two sized each other up, daring the other to make the next move. When Megatron refused to humor Starscream's little outburst with any more of a response than he'd already been given, the seeker crossed his arms in contempt. Megatron raised a optical ridge at the immature gesture, giving the seeker a once over. Fitting behavior for the "appointed leader of Cybertron" indeed.

Even when pouting, Starscream did still manage to make a pretty picture though. Whomever had been in charge of crafting his latest frame had done exquisite work. Megatron would miss having the opportunity to rend him of it.

"Get Out!"

It took Megatron a moment to realize the screeched command had not been directed at him, but instead at the loitering bots witnessing their standoff. As the mechs and femmes collected their belongings and trickled out, Megatron refused to give Starscream any more illusion of control in the situation and stood his ground. Starscream didn't move a nanometer in turn.

"What do you want?" Starscream's grating voice assaulted his audios again once they were alone.

"The Lost Light needs repairs to continue our journey," Megatron begrudgingly began, activating the datapad containing the list of needed supplies which had been thrust on him that morning. "After Rodimus decided to turn a near miss with a gravitational singularity into a sort of... 'race', Perceptor noted some concerning energy output from the quantum engines and wants to perform maintenance on the fuel quills before-"

"I don't care about that," Starscream interrupted, waving away the offered list before Megatron could get into it. "You can have whatever supplies you need if it gets you off _my_ Cybertron faster. I want to know why _you're_ here."

"Rodimus told me to ask-" Megatron tried to defend.

"Like you're one to take orders from that buffoonish Autobot." This time Starscream's sneer was directed at chest level as he spit every syllable of the faction name as if the very word left a sour taste in his mouth. "What are you doing here Megatron? Why did you come?" Starscream asked, his voice startlingly soft.

Megatron didn't know how to respond to that. He'd come for the supplies... hadn't he? If he didn't need to negotiate for their acquisition, there was no point in remaining. He should just leave before the entire encounter became something they'd both regret. He'd been dreading the meeting since the moment it had been dropped in his lap. He should be happy to jump at the chance for it to be over before it really began. But, why then did the thought of leaving so soon fill him with regret?

Something had changed in Starscream at the question as well, something in the way the notoriously haughty seeker was looking at him, the way he turned to the side as if he had something to hide. The gesture made Megatron's glossa falter.

"How are you?" he asked, unsure as to where the question came from even as he spoke it.

Starscream balked at him, squinting in suspicion before repeating the word of the evening once again.

"No," he stated. "You don't get to ask that. Not after what you've done."

"And what is that?" Megatron resignedly question, unsure as to which supposed transgression the fickle seeker now held grudge.

Instead of responding, Starscream met him with an incredulous stare. Silence seeped between the two as Megatron searched for the right thing to say.

"I'm... sorry?" he tried, unused to the word on his glossa. He knew it wouldn't be enough to make up for everything he had done to the seeker, everything they'd done to each other. But he was trying to make amends, that's what the whole point of this post-trial endeavor was. Apologizing was a place to start.

It appeared to be the wrong thing to say though, as Starscream's ire shot to a breaking point. He descended on Megatron in a rage; fists clenched, wings raised, his face contorted with fury.

"No!" Starscream shouted in his face, an offending digit pressing hard into the center of his chest, directly between painted eyes. "You don't get to say that. You don't get to use those words. Do you have any idea what you've done to us? What you did to 'your' Decpeticons? To _me_!? Four million years! Four million years I served you! Four million years I stood by your side! And you beat me! You demeaned me! You humiliated me! But I was still there! After every indignity I was still there! _I_ never gave up! Not even during that ridiculous farce of a trial! Not when you went and lost your mind and were going to let them have their pretty little way with you. _I_ knocked you to your senses! The only reason you're even alive again today is thanks to _me_! They weren't going to prosecute you until I insisted on it!

"And what thanks do I get! You're off gallivanting across the universe with your new pals, teaching history lessons and preaching pacifism. All the while still wearing _that_ ," Starscream emphasized the word by jabbing his sharp claw into the frowning face on Megatron's chest, "symbol on your chest! Do you forget what that symbol stands for? Do you forget why we fought so hard to erase it from our lives? Do you forget what mechs with that symbol painted on their chests did to us before the war even started? I don't forget. I remember it every day!"

Megatron let Starscream rant, let all of his festering grievances fall open between them, bloody and raw.

" _I_ remember it when I have to deal with those accursed Autobots while they prevent me from supporting _our_ people. I remember it when I have to deal with that Camien harlot who would just as quickly see our people locked up if she found them distasteful. I remember it when I stand alone between _your_ Decepticons and the likes of Prowl, and Metalhawk, and the Mistress of Flame, and everyone who has no care for the reasons _we_ fought in the war but deem themselves qualified to decide our lives for us! And where are you during all this! Where are you—"

As Starscream's rant came to a choked end, it struck Megatron that the seeker was crying, a steady stream of tears flowing down his face. Impulsively, Megatron reached out to wipe away this abnormal display of emotion. Starscream jerked at the servo which came to rest on his cheek, but didn't pull away. A tremor ran through the seeker's frame as he stared up at Megatron in silence, no accusations left to fling.

"I'm sorry," Megatron said again, this time his voice hardly more than a whisper.

Starscream collapsed at the words, all pretense of restraint shattered. He sobbed against Megatron, ugly and unrestrained. Megatron held him, unsure what else to do. He offered no comforting words to the seeker, no pacifying distractions from his all consuming anguish. He simply held the distraught mech and waited for the spectacle to come to an end.

"Tell me it's a lie," the words came out in a hoarse whimper, almost like a plea.

Megatron had no response for that, so simply took a page from Starscream's playbook for the night and repeated himself.

"I'm... sorry."

"Why?" Starscream asked between choked sobs, the tremors overtaking him. "Why did you abandon us? Why did you denounce the Decepticons? Why did you turn your back on everything we fought for? We followed you, put our faith in you, and you rejected us. You left us. You left _me_!" Starscream's voice cracked into static, the emotions too powerful.

"I was wrong," Megatron explained. " I had to put things straight."

"Wrong?" Starscream echoed, looking up from where he lay against Megatron's chest. "Was it _wrong_ to fight for the rights of the miners, moved from one job to the next, being worked harder for less every day until they died? Was it _wrong_ to fight for the mechs burning out in the gutters, overdosing on circuit speeders because their lives held no prospects? Was it _wrong_ to fight for the the mechs denied access to opportunities simply because their alt-mode put them into the wrong class?"

"No," Megatron conceded, "It was not wrong. But I did it for the wrong reasons."

"Is that so bad?" Starscream asked.

"If it is to mean something... then yes."

"Then stay here," Starscream pleaded. "Help me fight the Autobots; the 'right way'."

"The trial—" Megatron began.

"Screw the trial!" Starscream exclaimed. "You already proved that it was a farce, that the very idea of Autobot justice is mockery. It's the only reason you're not dead!"

"I thought you were the reason I wasn't dead," Megatron teased.

"Yes, well... If it wasn't for me you'd have been all gloom and doom right until the point they gave you the triple tap. But you showed how the Autobots will never be capable of dispensing justice against Decepticons. The system will never be fair with them in power. So stay, with me, and we can do things for the right reasons. Together."

"I would like that..." Megatron quietly confessed.

"But," Starscream accused.

"But I have to see this through. If anything I've done—Anything I'll ever do is to mean something, I have to see this through first."

Starscream stared at him in silence for a moment. Then pushed away.

"Fine," he said. "Leave. Go back to your Autobots and your quest to save yourself. ' ** _Move on_**.'"

Rage boiled inside Megatron as the words Optimus spoke in his voice were flung back at him.

"What I did at that trial was not just for me Starscream," he growled. "I did it for all those who looked up to me, those who died in the name of Decepticonism. You can thank your little attempt at disparaging me for reminding me what that originally meant. I do what I do now not so that my life may be spared, but so that history may look back and view _our_ people with more than pity. And I am more than willing to sacrifice my image with them to do it. Which is more than I could ever say of you, 'Emperor Perpetua'."

Megatron realized he had gone too far as soon as the title left his lips. Typically he would have nothing to fear from Starscream's wrath. But with the fools energon flowing through his veins, he was at a distinct disadvantage.

Yet Starscream did not advance on him, claws and cannons raised ready to maim. Instead the seeker stood rigidly frozen, just a breath out of arms reach.

"Leave," the order came sharp and crisp, providing no room for objection. "Leave, and don't come back. Ever."

Megatron almost didn't comply, aching to reach out and pull that warm frame against his once more, desperately wanting to regain that moment of tenderness they had been so close to having. But reason won out before foolishness could overtake him. Megatron turned and marched away to the chamber entrance, the supply list and promise of it's fulfillment grasped in his servo. He'd gotten what he'd come for and paid the price for overstaying his welcome. It was time to go.

But before he reached the threshold, he refused to let one thing go unsaid.

"For what it's worth, Starscream. I am sorry... For everything."

With that he was gone. As the door closed behind him, a muffled scream echoed through the hall. The secretary-bot he'd checked-in with at arrival stared in alarm, seemingly near glitching from the panic they'd worked themselves into after undoubtedly hearing the outbursts of the volatile encounter. Megatron did nothing to reassure the mech.

Leaving the building, he did not look back once. Not until after he'd returned to the Lost Light, informed Perceptor to the success his mission, and notified Ultra Magnus that he would be indisposed for the rest of the day. Only once he was secluded in his quarters, away from prying optics, did he allow himself to look back at the ludicrously winged tower and allow himself to mourn for the things that could have been.


End file.
